


Rebounds and Rehab

by peppydragon



Series: In the Valley [3]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Attempted Suicide, Casual Sex, Depression, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Marijuana, Post-breakup, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, realistic town
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-06 15:40:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17942492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppydragon/pseuds/peppydragon
Summary: Bridgette needs someone to keep her from thinking about Harvey. Shane needs someone to keep him from the edge. The pair form an unlikely duo, initially intending on no-strings-attached, but things quickly change between them.





	1. Long Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter One, in which Marnie helps Bridgette with a foal and Shane begins to question his ability to take care of Jas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything! This is an introductory chapter, so bear with me!

* * *

**Late Summer, Year Six**

**Shane**

* * *

  

Shane comes to a halt as he steps off the gravel road, suspiciously blinking toward the cows’ pasture. Someone is there, leaning against the fence. Marnie’s ranch doesn't receive many visitors, especially not so late in the evening, so he's immediately on edge.

As he steps closer, about to call out, he pauses. It's only Bridgette, a thumb swiping across her phone's face. She looks bored, but she usually does when he stumbles across her.

They've known each other for five years, but they've shared less than ten conversations in that time. Shane is glad for that, though; she's the town’s favorite daughter. Or, rather, she _was_. The bar isn't assaulted by her laughter on Friday nights anymore. She hasn't visited Marnie's for tea. Jas has passed along that she always seems sad during horseback riding lessons. Her name is only mentioned in whispers, and Shane isn't sure how it's happened.

“What do you want?” he asks, striding up the laneway toward Bridgette.

She pockets her phone and straightens, putting her hands up in mock-surrender. “Just here to see Marnie, officer.”

“She's not here.”

“Kinda figured that when she didn't answer the door.”

He bites his tongue and brushes past her, heading toward the house. Marnie will be pissed when she finds out he didn't offer to let her in, but he doesn't care. He pointedly slams the door and turns the lock, leaving her in the falling night.

 

* * *

  **Bridgette**

* * *

  

“We're in for a long night, girlie,” Marnie says, brushing a hand over the mare's muzzle. “Bridge, dear, can you make sure the hay's fresh in her stall?”

“Already done,” Bridgette murmurs, coming over to run a brush across the mare's flank. “You're sure it'll be tonight? She doesn't seem…I don't know. Distressed?”

“This isn't her first rodeo, Miss Bridgette. I promise you - this foal is going to be out in the world by three.”

“I guess it's too much of a bother to give birth during business hours, huh?” Bridgette teases, moving on to the mare's neck. “Jas is still excited, I take it?”

“She hasn't been able to stop talking about it,” Marnie groans, but her smile is gentle. “She insists it's name is Rita.”

“My aunt was named Rita.”

“Was she nice at least?”

“Yoba’s ass, no. She was the literal worst.”

Marnie snorts and gets to her feet, shuffling toward the door. “She's got a few hours yet. Let's go get some coffee.”

“You sure? What if she-”

“Animals have been giving birth unassisted for ages, Miss Bridge. Besides, as you say, she isn't distressed yet. We have some time.”

The pair make their way to the old farmhouse, Bridgette heading for the coffee maker and Marnie sitting at the dining table with a little puff of air. "Goodness, it's stuffy in here, isn't it?"

"Mmm. Robin's going to install an A/C at some point."

"By the time summer's over?"

Bridgette pauses, glancing over her shoulder with a smirk. "Probably not. She probably forgot I asked."

"I guess you're used to the humidity, though," Marnie says as if she didn't hear Bridgette. "Don't know how people can live places where you drown when you breathe, and half the animals can kill you."

"It wasn't all that bad," Bridgette hums while she brings two mugs down from the shelf above the coffee pot. "At least there wasn't snow. I'd take alligators over snow any day."

"You're insane."

"Probably." Bridgette clears her throat and pours coffee, bringing Marnie's to her.

Marnie accepts it, adds a teaspoon of sugar, and nonchalantly murmurs, "About Harvey."

"Marnie, no."

"You've been cooped up on this farm for a month; I just want to see how you're doing. It wasn't exactly the nicest of breakups."

"It's not -- things were blown out of proportion. You know how people around here talk out of their asses when drama shows up." Bridgette tries to ignore the pitying look Marnie is giving her, focusing on the scalding coffee in her hands. "It's fine, Marnie. Seriously."

They sit in an uncomfortable silence until Daisy begins to bark, the timber rattling through Bridgette's bones. She gets to her feet, as does Marnie, and grabs a clean pile of blankets she prepared this morning. "I think that's our cue."

"Go time," Marnie chirps, picking up the bag of equipment she brought along for the event, moseying out the door and humming cheerily as she does.

 

* * *

**Shane**

* * *

  

Shane wakes up when a pointed sigh breathes above him. He winces against the light streaming through the living room window, blearily blinking through the floaters in his eyes. "What?" he grouses.

Marnie's hair is messily piled on top of her head; she's flecked with grime and looks exhausted. "It's almost noon."

"And?"

Marnie sets her jaw, tossing a bottle of water at him. It hits his chest, making him wheeze, and rolls onto the couch, the cold plastic biting through his tee. "You said you were going to take Jas to school."

Shane's heart stops for a moment. She's right, of course - Marnie's always right. He covers his eyes with an arm, mumbling, "It's first grade. Not like she's doing anything there, anyway."

"Shane-" but Marnie cuts herself off, shaking her head. She shuffles toward the bathroom, her shoulders slumped and pace weary. He watches her, the self-loathing rising up, unbidden. Getting to his feet and running a hand through his tousled hair, he stumbles into the kitchen to grab something to drink.

Jas is sitting at the table, kicking her feet and spooning cereal into her mouth. "Mornin'," she says through a mouthful, big, bright eyes lighting up when she sees him.

Shane's heart sinks. It's nearly noon, and Jas is just now getting breakfast. He's such a fuckup. Jas doesn't deserve this. "Morning," he returns softly, leaning against the archway. "Sorry you missed school."

"It's okay," she says. "Miss Penny can teach me cursive tomorrow."

"Cursive, huh?" Fuck. He hates himself so much. Jas has been preening over Penny's writing all school year, thrilled at the prospect of duplicating it. "I'll take you to class tomorrow."

Jas sits up a little straighter, her smile a little wider. "Promise?"

"Promise," he repeats. He tries to go to his room with the water bottle but finds himself grabbing another beer from the fridge and putting the water back.

 

* * *

**Bridgette**

* * *

 

"Bridge."

"Can we not do this right now?"

"I just wanted to see if you're doing alright."

Bridgette puts the flour in her canvas tote, gritting her teeth and turning to Harvey. He's so sheepish, just like he was when they first met all those years ago. "I'd be better if you stopped telling people I was cheating on you."

"What?!" he whispers, eyes widening. He glances around them, voice dropping even lower. "Bridgette, I never said that. I would never."

"Well, Marnie seems to think you're the one spreading it around town," Bridgette mutters, eyes returning to the shelves, scanning the wares for brown sugar.

"But -- Bridgette, you know me."

Bridgette rolls her eyes but doesn't disagree. She doubted Harvey was behind all of the gossip, but how could she help herself when he cornered her in the baking aisle of Pierre's store?

"I'll ask around," he continues, words quick. He's rushing - he knows Bridgette likes to withdraw from arguments with little warning, deciding that she's done circling around the same words over and over. "I'll find out who's saying it and I'll correct them. I'll tell everyone the truth."

"The truth?" she asks, a wry smile tilting her lips as she turns to him. "Really? The full truth?" He hesitates, soft brown eyes begging her to forgive him. Not for the gossip - for the fact that he ended things. "Don't you have a clinic to run?" she asks finally when he doesn't answer, grabbing the brown sugar and brushing past him.

"Bridge-" he tries, but he doesn't follow her when she continues walking, heading for the register.

Brigette puts her items on the counter, offering Pierre a wry smile. "How's it?"

"Can't complain," he smiles. "Marnie said Ember went into labor last night. All went well?"

"Perfectly," she sighs happily, letting the tension in her shoulders release. At least Pierre wasn't looking at her like she wore a scarlet letter on her shirt. "He was on his feet faster than I've ever seen."

"He'll be a spirited one."

"Yoba's ass - he's already too spirited. When I left, he was charging around the paddock and nipping at the ponies; even Ember's having trouble keeping him in line."

"Haven't named him yet?"

"Nah, that's up to Jas. I'm hoping it will be something a little better than Rita."

She feels Harvey at her back, the hair on her nape standing on edge when his aftershave wafts around her. She closes her eyes for a moment, centering herself, trying not to remember their morning routines - his careful shaving, her haphazard haircare. The smell of his spicy aftershave mixing with her coconut oil. The stolen kisses. The giggles.

Pierre ducks his head a bit, scanning her items a little faster. He tries to pretend that he isn't uncomfortable, but she's sure it's hard seeing the two of them together like this. Wasn't it only seven months ago when Pierre and Caroline threw them an engagement party?

Bridgette pays, offers Pierre a quick adieu, and trots out of the shop as quickly as she can without running. She worries Harvey might follow her, that he might try to continue their conversation, but he doesn't. She makes it to the truck and tosses her canvas totes on the floorboard, starting the engine and leaving the lot, taking deep breaths until she can't smell his aftershave anymore.

 

* * *

**Shane**

* * *

  

"You're ruining everything. You know that, don't you?"

Shane's head sinks into a palm, groaning. "Can we skip the guilt-trip?"

"Might as well," Marnie mutters. "It's not like you're going to hear me, anyway. Or change anything. You might as well pass guardianship onto me."

Shane watches her marinate the chicken breasts, her fingers steady and capable. Unlike Shane's fingers - he can't remember a time before they tremored all the time. Before Stardew. Before Jas' parents died. "I'm asking for a raise tonight," he says, not sure why but feeling like he should.

"Oh, good, more booze money."

Shane grits his teeth. "For an apartment. Then we can be out of your hair."

Marnie snorts, looking up with a hard expression. "You think you can take care of Jas fulltime? You couldn't even take her to school _this morning_. You forgot to pick her up from the pool last Friday. Need I go on?" She pauses, though, letting out a huff of air. "You having a place of your own isn't the issue here, Shane, and until you figure that out...she isn't going anywhere with you."

"She's _my_ goddaughter," he snaps. Marnie stares at him, unimpressed, and his hackles raise. "You can't just swoop in and-"

Marnie rolls her eyes and goes back to preparing the chicken. Shane falters, trying to find something to say, but he's said it all before. So has Marnie. It's the same damn argument every night.

"I'll going to pick Jas up from school," he mumbles, getting to his feet.

"Pick her -- she's in her room. Remember? You forgot to take her to school." Shane gets to his feet anyway, grabbing his keys from the hook by the door. Before he can get through the door, Marnie calls out, "Jessie and Alec are rolling in their graves right now!"

Shane swallows, getting out of the house and into his car. He sits in the sagging driver's seat, trying to catch his breath. Marnie's right - Jas' parents would be horrified if they could see him.

Marnie's always right.

 

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages in this story (Year 6):
> 
> Bridgette - 27  
> Shane - 29  
> Harvey - 33  
> Marnie - 48  
> Jas - 6


	2. Cinder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two, in which Jas meets her new horse, Bridgette tries to coax Shane into opening up, and Shane takes a risk.

* * *

**Bridgette**

* * *

 

Bridgette is surprised when she looks up from her flower patch to find an unfamiliar car bumping up the laneway. She stands and brushes off the dirt from her jeans, sliding her hands out of her gloves and tucking them into her back pocket.

She's even more surprised when the driver's door opens; Shane steps out, looking haggard and irritable. Bridgette crosses her arms, an eyebrow quirking without her permission.

Her confusion fades when the backdoor of the sedan opens, and Jas pops out, bouncing as she runs to Bridgette, forgetting to shut her door. "Miss Bridge, can I see him?" she asks without any care for niceties. Not that Bridgette minds - the property has been Jas' playground for years, and Bridgette enjoys her endless enthusiasm.

"Of course you can - he's yours, isn't he?" Bridgette grins, loving how Jas bounces, too joyous to keep herself under wraps. Jas flings herself into motion, tearing toward the main paddock.

When Bridgette assures herself that Jas is patiently waiting at the fence for the horses to amass - which they will; Jas always has apple slices in her pockets for them - she turns back to Shane. The man is standing near the porch, leaning against the high foundation. "How's it?" she asks, not sure what else to do.

"Bright."

Bridgette chuckles, shading her eyes and peering at the pale man. "The joys of summer, right?" She swipes at the sweat beading along her hairline, glancing back toward Jas. Sure enough, the horses and ponies are vying for her attention. The foal is right at the front, snuffling and shoving his face between the fence slats to investigate the little girl.

"Nice place."

Even if he's only trying to be polite, Bridgette appreciates the compliment. "You've never been up here, have you?" His brow furrows as if she's insinuating something, so she adds, "I can show you around. I mean...there's not much to see right now except for the paddock and stable."

Shane doesn't say anything for a while, and Bridgette remembers why the man makes her uncomfortable. She's been around for long enough that she knows he's antisocial, a bit of a loner, an alcoholic. But those things aren't what bothers her. His eyes are empty.

"You race horses, right?" Shane asks, pushing off of the porch foundation, shuffling toward her and wincing in the sun's glare.

"Yeah," she mumbles, trying to understand what's happening. They've never really talked; historically, Bridgette can't remember him saying much other than varying phrases that all meant 'piss off.' At the time, the unprovoked hostility made her think he was some form of low-key bigot - and then she saw him do it to everyone else in the town. "Ember's my barrel racing queen - the tovero on the right." When Shane doesn't reply, she adds, "Sorry, ah...the white one with the red patch on her belly and flank."

Shane is quiet, but he's intently staring in Ember's direction. Bridgette clears her throat and steps over to where Jas is cooing at her new horse. "How do you like him?" she asks, crouching beside the girl and earning a nuzzling from the foal.

"He's so sweet!" she says brightly, eyes sparkling. "And he looks like Ember!"

"Mmhmm," Bridgette agrees, stroking a hand along the foal's alabaster jaw. "He's inheriting the crown from her, so I guess it's fitting, huh?"

"Can I ride him?"

"Not yet," Bridgette laughs, getting to her feet. "He's way too young for a saddle."

Jas pouts but doesn't complain, producing a small apple slice and offering it, palm flat just like Bridgette taught her. The foal greedily wraps his lips around it, making Jas giggle. Ember shoves her way to Bridgette, putting her head over the fence and bumping Bridgette's shoulder. "Think of a name yet?" she asks the little girl, standing to tuck her face against Ember's cheek.

"No," Jas moans softly, turning her head and brightening when she sees that Shane has slunk over, loitering just behind them. "Shane! Do you have any names?"

Shane looks horrified that she's asking him, but he doesn't discount the question immediately like Bridgette assumes he will. "His mom's name is Ember," Shane mumbles slowly. "So...what about Cinder?"

Jas' blue eyes widen, comically large, and she squeals, "Cinder!" She returns to petting the foal, whispering his name against his forelock.

Bridgette leaves the paddock and follows Shane to where he ambled to her flower bed. "Good name," she offers, watching the way his shoulders tense when he realizes she's there. He doesn't reply and Bridgette sighs, reaching for her watering can and spritzing the roses climbing up the foundation and coiling on the porch railing. She can feel him watching her, but she does her best to pretend she can't.

"It probably took a long time to learn this stuff." It isn't a question, but Bridgette treats it like one.

"Not really," she hums. "I mean...I've been riding horses my entire life, so I guess it did. But it isn't hard to teach - Jas is doing amazing, and she's only been at it for the summer." She finishes with her flowers and turns a little smirk toward him. "Thinking about a lesson?"

"Can't afford it," he shrugs and glances past her. "Jas, your appointment's soon; we gotta go."

Jas loudly groans from the paddock. Bridgette, undeterred, says, "You can come around when Jas has her lessons. We can give you some pointers, free of charge."

"No thanks," he says, but the words are sharp. Bridgette blinks, startled by the sudden coldness returning to his voice. What the hell does she do that sets him on edge?

"Alright," Bridgette says slowly. To Jas she calls, "Come on, Jazzy, don't make Shane wait."

"I don't wanna see Doctor Harvey," Jas bemoans as she trudges toward them. "I feel fine!"

Bridgette swallows, unprepared for Harvey's name to come onto her property so flippantly. She shoves her hands into her back pockets, saying, "Healthy or not, we all need checkups."

Shane heads to the car, and Jas follows after hugging Bridgette's legs. Bridgette watches them, more annoyed than she should be. Shane pauses before getting into the car, staring at her for a moment. "See you around."

The day has no end of surprises. She offers a crooked, confused smile. "Later."

 

* * *

**Shane**

* * *

 

 

Shane can't remember the last time he passed out from drinking, but he's reasonably sure he didn't wake up in a puddle of his own vomit that time. He pulls himself off of the floor and groans, his limbs trembling in protest. The bathroom is a mere twenty paces from his bedroom, and yet walking there is one of the most challenging things in years. He has to hold the wall as he trudges, the world spinning around him and crashing down all at the same time.

He gets into the shower without bothering to take his clothes off. His hoodie is vomit-splattered - his socks, too, even though his shorts are somehow untouched. It's difficult to stand so he sits, letting the cold water splash his face. He reclines, closes his eyes, and mutters curses under his breath.

Somewhere along the way, the curses turn into a song. Shane can't remember the last time he heard it - something about unconditional love, he thinks, but he can't be sure. Nothing makes sense anymore.

He gets out of the shower when he's sure the vomit is washed off. He takes his clothes off, wraps them in a towel, and puts them in the washing machine. He starts it, slips into his room, and then cleans the vomit there. He tries not to think about how it's all liquid, how he hasn't eaten in two days. He can't even remember if he went outside at all this week.

Shane climbs into bed, shivering from the shower but not bothering to get dressed. He curls into his blanket, begging for sleep or death - whatever comes sooner.

 

* * *

**Bridgette**

* * *

 

 

Bridgette opens the front door to find Shane on her porch. She blinks and opens her mouth to ask what he's doing there, but then she notices Jas bouncing around the paddock and calling for Cinder. "Hey," she settles with, not sure what else to say.

"Just...dropping Jas off. We're early," he adds as if she doesn't know.

"Sure," she says, slipping through the screen door and closing it behind her, leaving the entry door open. Bridgette pretends not to notice his hands are tremoring. "Did you, um...did you want to come for a ride?"

"I don't think that's a great idea."

She shrugs and hops off the porch. "I just figured Jas might like it. You might like it, too." _It's better than getting shit-faced and forgetting the little girl,_ she can't help but think, grimacing at the memory of Marnie's breakdown the previous day. _I don't know what to do, Bridgette,_ Marnie had whimpered, sitting on the couch and curling into herself, wiping her eyes. _He's got one foot in the grave and I swear to Yoba he's going to fall in._

To her surprise, Shane follows her to the horse run, looking nervous. She wants to ask if he's scared of the horses, but Jas is bright-eyed and bouncing, close enough to hear the conversation. "Are you coming for a ride, Shane?" she asks excitedly.

"I-" Shane begins and then pauses, brows furrowing. "I guess."

Bridgette lets out a soft laugh and nods. "I'll grab another saddle." She trots to the stable, shouldering a heavy leather and looping a harness around her hand. She's quick to equip Jas' training pony, then Ember, and then the gentle, barrel-chested thoroughbred Bridgette started racing with six years ago.

"Shane, this is Juniper," she calls, leading the horse to where he's entered the run, looking around the grassy field. He looks worried, so Bridgette drops her tone to a low, soothing purr. "Juniper's a sweetheart, so don't worry. Do you need help getting on?"

"No," he says quickly, looking offended that she asked. He doesn't bother petting Juniper or soothing her before struggling into the stirrups, awkwardly settling himself on her back and gripping the horn as if he might fall at any second.

Bridgette almost tries to reassure him again, just as she would with Jas and Vincent, but she knows it will make things worse. She hands the reigns to him and says, "Stay here for now. We'll do a few loops in the paddock before taking them out."

"Out?" he repeats.

"Can we go to the river?" Jas asks, the pony cantering up to them. Jas expertly pulls the reins, the pony trotting to a stop and shaking out its mane with a snort.

"Let's start small. How about the lake?"

Jas groans but doesn't fight it, instead kicking the pony's flanks and riding it along the perimeter of the run. Cinder, already enamored with the girl, trots alongside them. Bridgette bites down a smile and climbs into her saddle, patting Ember's neck. "Alright, Shane. First lesson; hold the reins, but not too tight, not too loose - a comfortable squeeze. Take a deep breath, center yourself, and when you're ready _gently_ press your heels into Juniper's flank. Like this," she demonstrates, Ember doing a slow, tight circle.

Jas impatiently trots around them while Bridgette shows Shane the ropes. He's still nervous, tight-shouldered, but Bridgette trusts Juniper to keep her cool under almost all situations. So long as a bear doesn't wander up, she's reasonably sure there's no chance of the horse spooking.

"Ready?" she asks, hopping off of Ember to open the gate.

"Ready!" Jas exclaims.

"Sure," is Shane's less enthused response.

They keep the pace slow for Shane, but that doesn't stop Jas from galloping off and circling back, the pony eagerly tearing through the tall grass at the edge of Bridgette's property.

"I think she's mocking you," Bridgette tries to tease Shane, surprised when he smiles. "Want to try a canter?" She nudges Ember into a quick trot, making loose circles to his left. "Another gentle squeeze on the flank."

Bridgette expects him to ignore her, or pointedly deny, but he seems intent on confusing her. He nudges Juniper, and the horse marginally picks up speed, her grey coat rippling in the sunlight.

"Great job," Bridgette praises. "Try to loosen up those shoulders."

Shane's shoulders tighten even more, and Bridgette rolls her eyes, bites her tongue, and trots after her two students as they lope toward the forest lake.

 

* * *

**Shane**

* * *

 

 

They stay out later than usual, only returning to the property when Jas is tired and getting hungry. Shane has, strangely, had a pleasant day. He is still an outsider, loitering on the edges of Bridgette and Jas' fun, but it somehow feels nice to be included.

Seeing Jas like this, so full of life...it's something worth missing happy hour for.

Jas goes to the house to get water and a snack while Shane helps Bridgette put the horses in their stalls. He even takes up a brush, unbidden, and begins to smooth it across Juniper's side while she munches from a trough of feed.

"You're good with her," Bridgette says suddenly, her voice echoing in the vast space.

"She's the gentle one," he mumbles, scratching along Juniper's withers.

"What?" she asks, sounding perplexed, and then laughs. "Oh, I mean Jas. She really liked having you come out."

 _I don't know why,_ he almost says, but bites it down. "She's a good kid."

"She is."

When he finishes with Juniper, he moves to the pony. Bridgette comes to lean over the gate, watching him, making the hairs on his arms stand up. Shane doesn't like having eyes on him, especially not hers. He isn't sure why - there's something about them. When he looks up, the chocolatey orbs pin him in place. They look past him, through him.

"It's kind of late. Do you guys wanna stay for dinner? Burgers and fries," she tries to tempt. "Marnie gave me way too much beef last week, and I'm desperate to use some of it."

"No," Shane says quickly. "Thanks. But no." Bridgette shrugs, and Shane chances a glance. She doesn't look discouraged or disappointed, so he lets out a small breath of relief. "We need to get back. Marnie's probably losing her mind."

"Probably, knowing her," Bridgette chuckles, tucking a bundle of curls behind an ear. "I can finish with this."

Shane hands the brush over even though he found the motions soothing. "Later."

"Later," she smiles faintly, switching places with him and taking up his abandoned work.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some definitions:
> 
> Horn - a part of most Western saddles, initially used for securing roped cattle.
> 
> Withers - the area between a horse's shoulder blades.


	3. Coverup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Three, in which Bridgette covers up Shane's mess.

* * *

**Shane**

* * *

  
Shane doesn't like the fact that he's getting used to their weekends on Bridgette's farm. He doesn't like that he's taken to Juniper and finds the work in the stable soothing. Except for cleaning the stalls - cleaning the stalls sucks.

But even so, he can't deny that he feels better when he wakes up on the cold Saturday and Sunday mornings. He also can't deny that he manages to go a whole weekend without drinking - not that he doesn't make up for it on Friday night. If nothing else, Shane is determined to be a failure in some way.

Jas is in Bridgette's house watching cartoons, sunburnt and exhausted from the dying sun, when Bridgette joins him in the stable. She gives him a handful of golden bills, making his eyes widen. "What-"

"You've been helping me out around here," she says with a shrug as if she didn't just hand him more money than he makes in two months at Joja. "It's only fair."

He thinks about pocketing it, but his hands are trembling, reminding him of what he would spend it on. He tries to return it but she puts her hands in her pockets, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Hang onto it for me."

"Or you could put it in the bank."

"Or you could hang onto it for me."

She smirks even though she looks confused. "It's your money now, bud."

Bridgette turns away, but Shane reaches out and grabs her arm. He freezes, eyes widen, and panics when she turns back, gaze guarded. "I...I can't trust myself with it."

She takes her arm back. "Then maybe you should put more faith in yourself." She retreats and he lets her, swallowing past the thick lump in his throat. He pockets the money, but it feels like a piece of smoldering coal against his thigh.

 

* * *

**Autumn, Year Six**

**Bridgette**

* * *

  

This fall is colder than the last few, which makes everything miserable. Bridgette has always hated the cold - she supposes growing up in the deep south, surrounded with thick swampland and ungodly heat year-round will do that. Her blood thinned out when she left Stardew as a child, and now the cold of the place makes her skin crawl.

She finally gets inside in the late evening, curling up under a thick blanket in the living room. There's a book that she's tried to finish for a month, but she forgoes it, again, for television. It's Friday night, so the programming is laughable at best, but she finds a mindless sitcom and turns her brain off for a while.

Bridgette is close to falling asleep when her cell phone trills on the coffee table, vibrating so fiercely it almost hits the floor. She grumbles and reaches for it, glancing at the display. It's two in the morning and Harvey is calling her.

She answers after five seconds of deliberating, putting the phone to her ear. "This better not be what I think it is."

"Bridgette, I'm at the clinic with Shane."

She sits up, confused. "What?"

"He...wanted me to call you. He needs a ride home and he doesn't want Marnie to know."

"Why is he calling me?" she asks, the rhetorical followed by, "is he okay?"

"He's...not dead."

"Reassuring," she grumbles, getting to her feet and reaching for her coat, putting it over her pajamas and sliding through the front door. "Drunk?"

"Very. I pumped his stomach, but...he isn't doing well, Bridge."

She hates that he still uses her nickname; it hits her ear wrong now. "I'm on my way," she sighs, hanging up and climbing into her truck. She sits in the driver's side for a few minutes, blinking into the darkness. "Fuck," she mutters, starting the truck and releasing the clutch, backing up and bumping down the laneway.

When she arrives, Harvey unlocks the door for her as he did so many times before. She hesitates in the waiting room, turning to him. "What happened?"

"He got hit by a car."

"What?" she snaps, eyes wide. "He -- I thought you said he wasn't hurt!"

"I said he wasn't dead," he sighs, taking his glasses off to rub his eyes. He looks exhausted. "He won't tell me much, but I can tell you that he's lucky the car was about to turn the corner when he walked out in front of it."

"Yoba's ass," she hisses, tucking her curls behind her ears and glancing toward the door leading to the examination rooms. "Is he ready to go?"

Harvey doesn't answer her immediately. "Can we...talk?"

Bridgette rolls her eyes and pushes past him, through the door, and into the recovery room. Shane is lolling on one of the beds, eyes closed but mumbling to himself. She sighs and goes to the bed, shaking his arm gently. "Hey. Shane."

Shane's eyes open, unfocused. "Why are you here?"

Bridgette clenches her jaw. "You told Harvey to call me for some reason."

"Harvey?" he repeats, looking around, wobbling as he does. He closes his eyes and lets out a sharp groan, lowering himself to the bed again. "It's bright."

"Yeah, I get it, you don't like the light. Come on, it's late and your daughter has a lesson in the morning."

"Daughter?" he repeats, eyes opening again. "Jas isn't my daughter."

"She is. But she won't be for long at the rate you're going." It isn't kind, but it's true. She punches his arm lightly, careful to avoid the purpling bruises. He grunts in protest. "We're going back to my place; Jas can't see you like this."

Harvey comes in to shoulder Shane's weight and help him into Bridgette's truck. When the door is shut, Harvey reaches out to her, hand fluttering near her shoulder. "Can you -- I can help you get him into the house."

"No." She rounds the truck and gets into the driver's side. Harvey follows her, grabbing the door before she can close it.

"Can we talk?"

"Right here? In front of a half-comatose drunk?"

"Come back in. Just for a minute."

She lets out a steadying breath before meeting his eyes. "Harvey, just let it go. I'm not mad, and I'm glad you told me when you did. Well, it would have been great if it happened before you asked me to marry you," she corrects and then realizes she's only making things harder on herself when Harvey's face crumples. "I'm trying to say it's fine. I just need some space - you're making it harder by doing shit like this." She pointedly looks at his hand on her door.

"I miss you."

Bridgette leans back in her seat, pressing into the headrest. "This isn't helping."

Harvey releases her door and steps back; she closes it and starts the engine, driving back home.

Shane, luckily, is mostly able to support himself on the trip to Bridgette's bedroom; she hooks one of his arms around her neck and he stumbles his way into the blankets, immediately asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

Bridgette stares at him for a moment before shaking her head, going to the kitchen and grabbing a beer. She drinks it down in four gulps and then carries the rest of the six-pack to the sink. She pours each of them out, and then ducks under the sink to procure the two wine bottles she was saving for her and Harvey's wedding. She pours those out, too, but there's something therapeutic about watching the dark liquid slipping down the drain.

She empties the trash, tossing the bag into the bed of her truck to take to the dump tomorrow. She paces the living room, absently picking at her nails. And then she settles on the couch, turning the television on and falling asleep to the sounds of feel-good animal videos.

 

* * *

**Shane**

* * *

  

Shane doesn't wake up until noon. He's momentarily confused, looking around the rustic room and not recognizing any of it. When he hears a whinny from outside, though, things begin to piece together.

He stumbles out of the bed, holding his head and stomach, both hands too preoccupied to help him steady himself against the wall. There's no sign of Bridgette, so he sits down on the couch and stares at the blank television, at his reflection in it.

Shane isn't sure how long he sits there, going in and out of consciousness, but the front door eventually opens behind him and he groggily turns his head. It hurts to do, sending a lightning bolt through his skull, but he is rewarded with a few seconds to see the woman in her natural state. She looks bored, as she used to whenever he'd see her at the bar. Her dark skin has a sheen to it - from working with the horses he assumes - and her natural hair is piled into a curly mess on top of her head.

When she finally looks up, she hesitates. "How's it?" she asks, as she tends to do when he appears.

"I feel like I was hit by a car."

"You don't say," she snorts, the anxiousness dropping from her face. She closes the door behind her and shrugs out of her jacket, hanging it up. "I canceled Jas' lessons for the weekend," she says, answering the question Shane hadn't realized he needed to ask. "Figured she'd never forgive you if she knew."

"Thanks," he mumbles.

She doesn't answer; she moves toward the kitchen and begins bumping around the cabinets, producing pans and plates. Shane sits quietly, not sure what to do or say.

Dinner is quiet, mostly because neither of them knows what to say. Shane picks at his salmon while staring morosely at his glass of water. Bridgette hums to the music playing from a speaker on the counter, forking steamed vegetables into her mouth.

"Do you..." Shane closes his mouth before the question can slip out. Yoba, he'd give all the money in his pocket for a drink.

She raises a brow at him, chewing a piece of broccoli very slowly before swallowing. "Alcohol? No."

He pushes his plate away, the half-eaten food uncomfortable on his stomach. "I should go."

"You should stay."

He pauses, hovering above the seat. "Why?"

"Have you seen yourself? Jas is going to take one look at you and run for the hills."

He hasn't seen himself. Shane finishes the action of getting to his feet, moving to the bathroom and wincing at his appearance. The side of his face is scraped, probably from the pavement. His right side is covered in bruises; his left features a swollen, purpling node on his hip. His fingers ghost over it and he hisses sharply.

When he returns to the kitchen, Bridgette is cleaning the plates. She turns to him, expressionless. "I told Marnie you're job hunting in the city. Jas thinks you're going to pick up a new paint set for her."

"I-"

"I picked up the paint set for you," she interrupts. "And you're now working here with me - you start in the morning. Oh! And you sleep on the couch from here on out."

She passes by him and he watches her, eyes wide, trying to work out what just happened.

 

* * *

 


	4. No Strings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Four, in which Bridgette has a proposition for Shane.

* * *

**Shane**

* * *

 

Bridgette spends most of her free time reading or watching television; the latter isn't much different than Shane's routine, with the decided lack of alcohol. It's been a maddening desire, the thirst, but it's easier to tamp down here under Bridgette's watchful gaze.

Part of Shane wonders if it's merely because his face is too torn up for him to go into town without questions he doesn't want to answer. He doesn't want Gus, the usual bartender in town, to give him the pitying look that the man is so good at. He especially doesn't want Emily to see him like this; Yoba only knows what she'd say.

Tuesday afternoon is raining, and they finish chores faster than usual. Bridgette pushes Vincent's lesson to the end of the week because of the sudden damp weather, leaving her floundering for something to do. Her anxiousness begins to rub off on Shane to the point that he hazards a trip back to Marnie's to take a shower and change out of his borrowed clothes.

He doesn't expect Marnie to be home, given her weekly aerobics class, but the rain has kept her in. She's right in front of him when he enters, sitting at her desk and sewing. "Oh, Yoba," she mumbles, shaking her head when she sees him. "Bridgette said it was bad, but I didn't think it would be that bad."

"What?" he asks, confused enough to stop in his tracks.

It's Marnie's turn to be befuddled, staring at the side of his face. "The horse...? Bridgette said it threw you."

"Right," he says quickly, overwhelmingly thankful that his new boss is smarter and quicker than he. "Brain's still a little scrambled."

"Well, you look good otherwise," she says with a hopeful smile. "Your color is better. Seems the horse training life is working for you."

Shane ducks his head and goes to his room, shedding the borrowed clothes - too hot and scratchy, which is possibly why Harvey always looks so uncomfortable - and changing into shorts and a hoodie.

Marnie was in his room while he was gone; he can tell because his mattress has fresh sheets, his clean clothes folded in the corner, and the six-pack under his bedframe is missing. He wonders if Bridgette told Marnie to dump out any liquor she found, or if Marnie did it of her own volition. Not that it matters - he's unwillingly sober, and yet unwilling to spend the money burning a hole in his pocket on booze.

He tries to shower off the craving, and then sleep off the craving, but it only makes him more miserable. Shane wonders if he should take up smoking again just to have something to do, some way to distract himself. He'd probably lose some weight, too, which he wouldn't complain about. His softening belly is getting to be a badge of shame. Shane doesn't need any more shame in his life.

Before he can convince himself to try going for a night jog for the first time in years, his phone buzzes from its charging port. He grabs it, not sure who would be texting him, only to see _Bridgette_ listed as the contact.

 

_Still sober?_

_unfortunately_

_Good, then you can come over and get this_  
_massive fucking snake out of the house_  
_I have no idea how it got in, or why Daisy didn't kill it,_  
_but it's slithering around in here somewhere_

_im not animal control_

_No shit, but the snake doesn't know about_  
_business hours, I'm stuck on my table, and_  
_I'm pretty sure snakes can climb things._  
_Don't they climb trees?_  
_It doesn't matter - I really need to pee and_  
_I can't with this demon skulking around._  
_Please?_

_give me ten minutes_

_Thanks_ _Shane_

 

 

Shane sighs, pocketing his phone and lacing his shoes. He slips out of the house, grabbing a gunny sack and gloves from the barn and a stick from the front yard.

When he gets to the farmhouse, he opens the door to find Bridgette right where she said she would be, sitting cross-legged on top of her dining table, her phone in hand. "How's it?" she asks without looking up.

"Not an emergency from the look of it."

She looks up, and he finally sees how anxious her face is. "It popped out from under the entertainment center, but I don't know where it went once I started screaming. It smells awful, though," she adds.

Shane can smell the strange musk, making the tension in his shoulders release. "Rat snake. Long and black?"

"Yep."

"They're common around here," he mumbles, slipping the gloves on and heading toward the entertainment center. Rat snakes are mostly harmless, more scared of people than the other way around, but he still doesn't want a bite.

Shaking out the sack, he kneels and shoves the stick into the darkness, sliding it to the side. The snake coils toward the bag and, once within, Shane loops it and stands. He leaves the house without a word, taking the bag to the back of the property and depositing it into a thicket. By the time he returns, he finds Bridgette leaning against his car, smoking.

He realizes it isn't tobacco when he draws closer, nose wrinkling at the pungent scent. "You seem a little too straight-laced to be a pothead."

"We all have our vices." She tilts her head at him, taking another drag. "I gave it up when I thought I had a reason to," she says, smoke filtering out between the words. "But now it keeps me entertained, at least."

Shane reaches for the joint, but she pulls it back, raising a brow. "Pretty sure the last thing I should do is give you a controlled substance, given last Friday."

"Aren't you guys always saying how much safer it is than alcohol?"

"It's infinitely safer," she concedes, narrowing her eyes at him, "doesn't mean I'm going to give it to you."

She leaves him standing on the gravel, retreating to the veranda and huddling in her jacket on the porch swing. He follows her hesitantly, sitting beside her. "Why'd you ask _me_ to come over?" he finally asks.

She shrugs as if it's nothing, but ends up answering him after a long pause. "Who else could I call? My ex? My best friend who I haven't talked to in months?" she lets out a wry laugh. "Definitely not Marnie; she'd probably skin me alive if she showed up and found me half-blazed and whining on top of a table."

"She would probably guilt you for the rest of your life," he acknowledges. Shane lets himself relax into the swing, the chains holding it to the awning creaking. "I didn't know you and Harvey broke up."

"Yeah," she murmurs. She finishes the joint, snuffing the tip in an empty flower pot beside her. "A few months ago."

Shane's uncomfortable - he's never liked these conversations - but he can't help his curiosity. "His dick stopped working, didn't it?"

Bridgette laughs, really laughs, the blithe sound bouncing around them and warming his chest. "That was certainly not the issue." She let out a small breath. "He's in love with someone else."

"Fuck," he mumbles.

"Yeah."

"Who?"

Her lips sadly tilt upward. "Gossip travels fast in small towns." Even so, she continues, "Maru."

The name doesn't mean anything to Shane at first, but then he winces. "His nurse."

"And my best friend."

_"Fuck."_

"Yeah." Bridgette's voice is quaking, but it's the cold rattling her bones, not the conversation. "It's not like he -- he had feelings for her before I showed up. He didn't cheat or anything; he just figured it'd be cruel _not_ to tell me before the wedding. And he was right. I mean, can you imagine?" she laughs suddenly, brushing a stubborn curl from her forehead. "I would have given up racing. I would have dedicated everything to giving lessons, popping out kids...I would have done it for him. And then what if he told Maru about his feelings for her? What if Maru felt the same?" She breaks off, gritting her teeth. "He did the right thing, but so much of me hates him for it."

Shane doesn't know what to say, but his heart is breaking for her. He isn't sure if anyone has spoken to him so openly in years. He isn't sure if he's listened to someone so openly, either.

"You know the worst part of it? The breakup?" she asks suddenly, a wry smile tilting her lips.

Shane mulls it over. The loss of companionship, of course, but he and Bridgette aren't close enough to talk about that. It's too personal, too raw. "The lack of sex?"

She laughs again. "Exactly." When she stands and walks toward the door, she hesitates. "Do you want to spend the night?"

His heart stops for a moment. "What?"

"Do you, Shane, want to spend the night here, with me, Bridgette?" When he continues to stare, silent, she rolls her eyes. _"Sex,_ Shane. Do you want to have sex? No emotions, no ties, just sex."

He is having a bit of trouble catching his breath, his heart hammering. Bridgette's pretty, but he has never thought of her like that. On the other hand, it's been over a year since Emily left him, and his hand doesn't have quite the same magic he covets.

Shane gets to his feet and follows her into the house, and then into her bedroom. Bridgette leaves the light off, which Shane self-consciously appreciates, and drops her clothing with no fanfare. When she steps toward him, she raises his hoodie and tee, fingers going to his shorts.

"Any rules?" she asks, unzipping and then reaching for the elastic band of his boxers.

"I...don't know?"

Bridgette chuckles, her teeth flashing in the light, and drops his underwear. "Alright then; we'll figure it out as we go." She takes control of his cock before he can even touch her, gently rubbing along his stiffening length. Her face goes to his clavicle, nipping at the bone and drawing a sharp breath from Shane. He finally gets the nerve to touch her, sliding his hands down her arms to grip her waist, pulling her closer.

They make it to the bed, tripping over clothes and heavily landing on the duvet, Bridgette above Shane. She rubs herself against him, wetting and flaming his cock, before rolling her hips and taking him inside of her. Her motions are quick and practiced, her hands splayed on his chest.

She's firm, muscled, angular, and Shane struggles not to come immediately while his hands survey the land of her shoulder blades, the slope of her abdomen, and then the hot nub between her legs. Bridgette arches when his thumb caresses across her clit, rubbing roughly, matching her pace.

A skillful thrust from her pelvis sends an electric shock through him, making him grit his teeth and let out an agonizing groan, climaxing too soon. He can feel himself flagging inside of her and Bridgette lets out a soft sound, slowing her pace until he slips out with a wet noise. She remains on top of him for a few seconds longer than he expects, but eventually rolls onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Sorry," he says because now that the desire is gone, there's nothing but a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"No worries," she replies, sounding as if she means it. She crawls under the covers, curls on her side, and watches Shane while he gets to his weak legs, reaching for his clothes.

"I should get back," he says. 

"Drive safe," she yawns, not bothering to show him out.

 

* * *

 

Shane would be embarrassed to admit that he spends the next day in his room, masturbating so many times his cock begins to hurt. He practices his stamina, now that he suddenly has a partner - a partner who knows what she's doing, at that. He knows she wasn't upset with his lackluster performance, but he can't be sure if the sympathy will continue if he's constantly letting her down.

The house smells fresh when he finally leaves his bedroom to get some food. Marnie recently cleaned the floors, the citrus scent lingering in every nook and cranny. When Shane returns to his room, the odor is stale and musky. It smells like what Shane imagines an eighteenth-century brothel would.

He opens a window while devouring two protein bars, knowing the calorie count is not nearly what his body needs but not caring. He sometimes goes days without eating; if anything, he's doing better by his body now than ever.

Bridgette doesn't text him, but he supposes it's normal for a boss to not reach out on their employee's day off. Even so, he checks his phone over and over. It's always the same, silent and aloof, and it's driving Shane insane.

He doesn't love her - he certainly doesn't pine for her. And yet, he can't stop checking his goddamn phone.

He wants a drink now more than ever and, giving in, grabs his keys and heads for JojaMart. He needs to distract himself, and he knows of no better way than beer, pepper poppers, and gridball replays.

 

* * *

 


	5. Interruptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Five, in which Shane opens up for a moment only to be interrupted.

* * *

**Shane**

* * *

 

The work in the stables is taxing, but Shane begins to notice a real difference in his strength. His arms are starting to cord with muscle, his reflexes are improving, and he can somehow breathe better since spending so much time outside.

He tries to undo the good work when he gets home, though, downing beer and hating himself for still checking his phone, still waiting for Bridgette to take pity and hail him to her house. It's been two weeks of professionalism and nothing other than that.

It finally happens late on a Friday night when Shane is, unfortunately, at the local saloon.

 

_You up?_

_yeah_  
_whats_ _wrong_

_Come over?_

_another snake?_

_.........._  
_You realize this is a booty call, right?_

 

He blanches, looking around the room. It's begun to empty, the pleasantly-drunk off to their homes and beds. There's no one he knows well enough to ask for a ride; even if there was, how would he explain going to Bridgette's house in the middle of the night?

As she likes to say, gossip spreads quickly in a small town.

   
_cant  
sorry_

_No worries, see you tomorrow_

   
Shane stares at the screen, waiting, but nothing else comes through. His hands clasp and unclasp until he finally lets out a hiss of frustration and finishes his bottle. Emily is wiping down the bar, her expression airy and far-off.

"Hey," he calls, making her startle.

Her smile is warm, delightful. "Hey yourself! You're looking better. Gus said you're working with racehorses now?"

"Yeah," he answers slowly, swallowing. "Finally found something I'm sort of good at."

"You're good at lots of things," she says kindly, putting the rag down and leaning over the bar.

Shane returns his glass to Emily, pausing, sharing her breath. She's so close. She smells like patchouli. He doesn't miss the heady scent, but he misses her room, her bed. Her. "I miss you," Shane says even though he knows it's the companionship he misses — the one thing he can't duplicate, the one thing Emily will never give him again.

Emily's face softens, and she places a hand on his. "Shane...you need to let me go."

He closes his eyes, head swimming. "What about just for tonight?" he tries, desperate.

She pulls back, her softness shifting a bit, becoming unsettled. "No."

He leaves the bar without a backward glance, without another word. He stumbles his way out of town, following the state route right to Marnie's front door. But he hesitates. He almost considers walking to Bridgette's anyway - let her see who he is, let her decide if she still wants to associate herself with him.

He retires to his room, though, putting the television on and ignoring the reports from the frontlines of the war. He downs three cans of beer in rapid succession until he passes out on his bed, too fucked up to keep his eyes open.

 

* * *

 

Shane has been late each morning the past week, showing up in time for the exercise runs but AWOL during feeding and morning brushing. Bridgette chooses not to mention it. After seven days of his tardiness, though, she finally breaks. "Long night?"

"Something like that," he grumbles, getting down from one of the horses' back. He taps the Arabian on the rump, the agile horse tearing into the paddock to rejoin the others. "Long life."

Bridgette thinks about it before shutting the gate, separating them. She leans over the wood, murmuring, "You're drinking again."

"I never really stopped."

She doesn't argue that point, but her brows furrow. "Do you...want to talk about it?"

He's surprised by that, but he isn't sure why. Shane hasn't noticed her being anything short of kind, even if she's a bit aloof. She hasn't done anything to make him think she would disparage his shame, unlike everyone else in his life now. "Not really."

"Fair enough." She shrugs out of her jacket, and her arms are immediately covered in goosebumps, the cold wind hitting her just right. Her nipples press against her thin cotton top, drawing Shane's attention, "Meet me in the bedroom?"

Bridgette doesn't bother to see if he's following her when she turns toward the house. He meets her on the bed, but only after closing the curtains over the windows, casting the room in faint shadows. She remains clothed but lounges across the large mattress, waiting. He climbs up to her and hauls her clothing off, admiring each stretch of newly exposed skin. Bridgette doesn't let him loiter long, choosing to rove her mouth along his neck, pulling his hips down to her, stroking him to life and guiding him inside.

Shane has to take a moment to breathe, steadying himself, counting backward from five before giving an experimental thrust. She groans, arching up against him, eyes hooding, hands hooking at his backside, sharply pulling him into her. His hips practice with long, thorough strokes and Bridgette seems to appreciate it, angling herself to take him in a little further, a little deeper. Her walls clench around him, and he hisses out a breath, stammering; she pauses, waiting, but he thankfully doesn't come.

When Shane starts up again, it's rougher, more insistent. Bridgette's lips part slightly, letting out little explosions of breath, a hand coiling in his hair, the other grabbing one of her breasts, squeezing the pert, dusky nipple. Shane leans down to nibble the other, rolling the nub around his lips, his tongue and teeth lavishing her.

The hand in Shane's hair tightens as he does, Bridgette's panting turning into soft moans, her pelvis insistently rocking against his. She begins to say something but stops before the name can leave her mouth. _Harvey._ She was about to call him Harvey.

It's infuriating for some reason even though they're only using each other. Isn't that what they agreed to? Even so, when Shane saw Bridgette beneath him, above him, surrounding him, he didn't think of Emily; he thought of Bridgette. From the way she stills beneath him, breath going very quiet very suddenly, she hadn't intended it. Who alive has ever intended to call someone by another name, though?

He thrusts a little harder, a little faster, his annoyance spurring him into nipping her areola roughly, making her gasp and groan, hips forgetting her hesitation. Her hands are both tangling in his hair now, her own a shocking mess of tight curls all over the pillow. He wants to touch them, to feel the coarse hair on his hands, on his face. But he holds himself back while giving her everything he can between her legs.

Thankfully, she comes before he does. It's a soft whine accompanied with clenched teeth and closed eyes. Her brow is dotted in sweat when he follows soon after, head falling to hers, foreheads mashing together.

Shane isn't sure how long they stay like that, limbs akimbo and entwined, lips just barely brushing one another's. They haven't kissed; Shane doesn't know if this is normal for such relationships, but he isn't about to be the first to break unspoken rules.

Bridgette rolls out from beneath him, laying on her back with a hand on her ribs, catching her breath. When she does, she glances over at where Shane has collapsed on the other pillow. "Thanks," she says, which surprises him.

"Just glad I was useful this time."

She snorts and covers her eyes with an arm. "Don't be stupid."

He doesn't ask her to expound - he's too worried she'll never stop listing his idiocies - and she doesn't continue. Shane lays on the bed, letting his heart slow, before rising to his feet and getting dressed. "I should take Prince for a ride. He didn't get exercised for long yesterday."

"I'll be out soon."

He nods, awkwardly trekking toward the paddock.

 

* * *

**Bridgette**

* * *

  

"You know you don't have to do this."

Shane has said it every evening he spends the night. It's getting old, less endearing each time it comes out of his mouth. It's been a month of their almost-daily tryst, and yet he still can't chill the fuck out. 

"I'm very aware," she replies slowly. Bridgette watches Shane push his food around his plate; he hasn't touched the fish, which makes her ask, "So, are you suddenly against eating fish, or...?"

"No," he says quickly. "No, I'm just...distracted." She doesn't ask; it's Friday night, and his hands are trembling. "Tired."

"Can I get too personal?" she asks, setting her fork down and resting her hand on an upturned palm. When Shane doesn't object, she continues. "Why do you drink?"

"Are you a shrink now?" His tone sounds defense, which is exactly the opposite of what Bridgette wants.

"Professionally? No. But after so long with Harvey, I might have picked up something of a bedside manner." When his skepticism is too much to keep a straight face, she corrects, "Okay, more like a...bedside concern that doesn't involve tact?"

That seems more acceptable to Shane who forks a piece of the cod into his mouth, chewing. "Jas' parents were my best friends. They died in a car crash when Jas was barely a year old. I was her godfather, but I didn't expect -- how the fuck could I have expected..." he trails off, swallowing. "It just...all happened so fast. I lost them, and then I had a baby to take care of."

"I'm so sorry."

He ducks his head, somehow looking ashamed and lost at the same time. "They were my best friends; I loved them both. And Jas. I just never thought..."

She gets out of her chair and comes to his side, leaning down to wrap her arms around him. "Do you want to keep talking about it?" she asks when he doesn't continue, still holding his shoulders.

"No," he murmurs, and then, "I don't know."

A knock on the door startles them apart, Bridgette letting out an exasperated breath. "It's probably Marnie with the eggs I asked for."

But it isn't Marnie. Bridgette opens the door and freezes, jaw clenching. Harvey is standing on her porch, an anxious flush on his cheeks. "I know you told me not to come here-"

"So what the fuck are you doing here?" she hisses in an undertone.

"I need to talk to you," Harvey begs her. "About Maru."

"I'm busy," she says coolly.

"Bridge-"

Bridgette can hear Shane getting to his feet, the chair's legs squealing when he pushes it into the table. He begins to put his leftovers into a container, but he is doing so quite loudly - slamming cabinets, dropping his fork twice, setting his glass in the sink with more force than necessary - and making it very obvious that someone else is in the house.

"Who-" Harvey begins but cuts himself off. "Bridgette, please. I just need ten minutes; It isn't about you and me, I swear."

Before Bridgette can tell him to get the fuck off her land, Shane breezes past her, shoulder smacking against Harvey's as he does. "See you tomorrow," he says to Bridgette, not bothering to pay Harvey any attention.

Bridgette sighs and steps aside from the door, letting Harvey in. "Ten minutes," she repeats, pretending that Shane isn't loitering in his car, watching them. She closes the door with a sharp click, turning to the man in her living room.

Harvey runs his hands through his hair, looking panicked. He probably didn't expect to get in when he showed up, so he is struggling to find words. "Maru's upset; she doesn't understand why you stopped talking to her. So I told her."

Bridgette's angry pulse slows before adrenaline spikes it to life again. "And?"

"She...doesn't feel the same for me. She loves you like a sister and wants to see you. She -- Bridgette, please don't take this out on her. She never knew until now."

Bridgette bites her tongue. The wetness in her eyes comes so quickly that she can't hide them before the tears are sliding down her cheeks. Bridgette furiously wipes at them, and Harvey steps forward, always one for comfort. "Stop it," she snaps when he reaches out for her.

"I'm sorry," he tries again. The hurt on his face is too raw; Bridgette hates seeing it. She wants to be pissed - she wants to rage - but he makes it so damn _hard_ for her to be mad at him. "I didn't handle things well."

"No shit," she laughs wryly, sitting at the dining table to finish her food, to distract herself. "We all know that."

"And I didn't start any rumors about you."

"I know, Harvey; we've gone over this."

"I love you," he rushes out, eyes wide and frightened; he doesn't look like he planned this course in the conversation. "I know you don't want to hear it, but I need to say it. You're the one I wanted to be with then, and I still do now. I just thought it was only fair to tell you before the wedding."

"Well, you were right on that count," she mumbles. "But it would have been super great if you didn't lead me on for five years while thinking about my best friend, _your nurse."_ A thought hits her, a sudden memory, and her eyes widen. "Holy shit, you bought me a nurse costume!"

Harvey winces. "That...was crass."

 _"Gross,"_ she hisses, going to her wardrobe and rifling through her lingerie, producing the tiny outfit. Bridgette carries it back to Harvey, throwing it at him. "Get out."

"Bridgette! I lo-"

 _"Don't you dare._ Don't you fucking say it again." Harvey's mouth shuts, and she lets out a small breath. "Just...stop. Move on," she continues, losing the will to keep fighting. What's the point? They're constantly circling. "Maybe somewhere down the road we can be _friends,_ but this-" she motions to the thick air between them, "-isn't happening again."

Harvey looks as if he might crumple to the floor or the couch. He looks as if he might cry. .But he keeps himself together, balling the costume up between his fingers, wringing it. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Me too." Bridgette opens the front door, stepping aside and giving him room. Shane is gone, but Daisy is patiently sitting on the porch. She lets out a little _woof,_ her tail thwapping against the wooden veranda. Harvey sighs and passes through the door, head ducked.

Bridgette brings Daisy into the house and closes the door, locking it behind her. She stares at the table, at the place where Shane was sitting a mere ten minutes ago, and feels her chest deflate. She grabs her phone, texting him.

 

 _Sorry about that_  

 _its fine  
__everything ok?_  

 _Yeah, I guess  
__Wanna come back over?_  

 _as long as you dont try calling me harvey again  
_ _dudes an asshole_

 

 Bridgette laughs, unable to help herself, and replies quickly, _One time mess up, swear. See you soon?_

 _see you soon,_ he replies and Bridgette takes a deep breath, trying to crush the smile that overtakes her lips.

 

* * *

 


	6. Spirit's Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Six, in which the months fly by and walls crumble.

* * *

**Last Day of Fall, Year Six**  
**Shane**

* * *

 

 

 

_are you busy_

_not really, just getting ready for the festival_  
_I'll see you there, right?_

_no_

_Yoba's ass, Shane_  
_Why not?_  
_There's a corn maze_  
_And lots of food_

_and drinks_

_I'll keep you distracted_  
_You'll like my plans for the night, promise_

_i might come by_

_I'll pick you up around ten_  
_And dress up_

_i dont have a costume_

_Then make one or find one  
_ _See you at ten,_ _xoxo_

 

 

Shane sighs and gets to his feet, rifling through his dresser and closet. He has nothing outside of his usual attire - aside from the clothes he borrowed from Bridgette months back. Harvey's clothing. Part of him thinks donning the older man's outfit might be funny if Harvey hadn't ruined Bridgette's year.

He leaves his room, knocking on Marnie's door and asking words he never expected to utter. "Do you have something I can wear as a costume tonight?"

"Nope!" Marnie calls back, "But Emily has extras! She's been working on outfits all month. In fact, you can take Jas to pick up her costume."

It's the last thing Shane wants to do, but he knows it's for the best. He leaves Marnie's door and steps into Jas' bedroom. She's in the middle of tying her hair up into matching buns, humming to herself.

"Ready to pick up your costume?"

Her eyes widen, and she turns on him. "Really? You're coming?"

"Yeah," he shrugs as if it's not a big deal; as if he isn't doing a million uncomfortable things that make his skin crawl. And all for Bridgette. Yoba, he's sinking fast. "Let's go see if Emily has something for us."

 

* * *

 

Bridgette is a little late arriving at Marnie's, but Shane and Jas wait outside. Shane watches the country road, and Jas pretends to cast spells with her magic wand.

"You guys look amazing," Bridgette grins, lowering to her knees to accept a hug from the purple-clad witch. When she stands, she offers Shane a crooked smile, a hand resting on her hip. "I'd hug you, too, but I'm afraid I'll get glitter all over your...fringe?"

Shane shifts uncomfortably in his borrowed costume - according to Emily, the costume is a wolf, but it looks like a shaggy onesie - trying not to stare at Bridgette. "You went all out," he mumbles.

Bridgette does a little twirl in her thigh-high boots. Her short green skirt flutters, just barely covering her assets, and her tiny, sparkling fairy wings catch the floodlight. "I love Spirit's Eve."

"Me, too," Shane admits, though he hasn't celebrated it since he was a kid. "It used to be my favorite."

"See? I told you that it'd be fun," she grins. She's different tonight; Shane can't exactly place why, but Bridgette isn't reserved - she's practically prancing, childlike in her excitement. "Ready?"

The three pile into her truck; the bench is already smattered with green and gold glitter, falling from her wings and tight bodice. Shane tries not to stare at the way her breasts push up against the corset, but it's becoming challenging to not.

When they arrive, Jas scampers off to where Vincent and the other children in her grade are shoving sweets into their mouth and tearing through the pumpkin patch. Shane loiters, waiting for Bridgette. She offers him a dazzling smile when she rounds the truck, and then gives him the hug she passed on earlier. "Let's go," she says when she pulls away, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the cornfield she and Marnie managed to cultivate over the summer.

The field is massive, and Shane is overwhelmed the moment they go into it, leaves rustling and prickling his face as they walk. She doesn't let go of his hand, and somehow it makes him feel better. It feels right. He tentatively squeezes her fingers, and she returns the pressure, glancing back at him with a mischevious smile.

She knows the cornfield, so he supposes it isn't very sporting, but she leads him to the small hedges in the middle. There are a bench and an assortment of treats waiting for anyone who finds it. It's untouched and will probably remain that way, given all of the turns and twists they took to find it.

Bridgette turns to him, impish and sparkling in the flickering light from small tiki torches. The golden swipes of shimmer on her high cheekbones are intoxicating. Shane pulls her into him without permission, too overwhelmed to help himself.

Bridgette doesn't mind. She enters the embrace without a single protest, her hands sliding through the faux-fur. "Aren't you hot in there?" she breathes softly, mouth ghosting across his jaw.

"Very."

"Why don't you take it off for a minute?" she suggests, tone innocent but her eyes anything but. Her hands are already sliding along Shane's back, tugging at the zipper keeping the whole mess together.

Shane doesn't need any convincing. He is out of the thing and shoving his pants down before Bridgette has the chance to remove her costume. When she doesn't take anything off, he narrows his brows, hand pausing where it is stroking his cock. "Well?"

She smirks and trots to the bench, spreading her legs and stealing his breath all in one moment. The short skirt has nothing beneath it. Shane's breath catches, and his cock is hard by the time he gets to her. He tosses her legs up, her leather boots vicing around his hips.

It's animalistic, moreso than ever. Shane bites her neck and Bridgette's nails tear into his buttocks, their bodies slamming together in wet, obscene thrusts. She comes twice, biting her wrists to keep from shouting. When he leans down to her, spine protesting, her teeth find his neck. He knows it will mark, and somehow that knowledge is hot as hell.

When he releases inside of her, gasping against her ear, Bridgette's legs tighten, holding him in place. They pant and tremble, hands smoothing over each other. It's softer when they part, too - she releases him with some reluctance, and he pulls back with even more.

Things have been changing between them for months, slight tweaks to their dynamic, but something has broken open tonight. Something big and weighty. Something real. Shane can't voice it, but he can feel it when they part, when their gazes hold one another and don't let go.

She helps him dress, and he helps her clean up with napkins from the food table. Bridgette throws those away, all the while joking that she hopes no one else has a napkin emergency.

Her hand slides into his when they leave the clearing. Shane tells himself that it's because she needs to lead him, but he clings to her all the same, putting too much thought into it. But her hand doesn't release him when they break through the maze, and Shane feels his heart leap into his throat, attempting to escape the warring feelings inside of him.

Bridgette keeps her promise, staying with him all night. They eat and drink soda. They even dance. Shane pretends that he doesn't see Emily watching them, her expression joyous. He pretends that he doesn't see Harvey at the drinks table, observing them with a very different emotion.

 

* * *

 

Bridgette drives Shane and Jas home, helping get the half-asleep girl out of her costume and into bed. She pauses in the entryway, hesitating, and Shane blurts, "Do you want to stay for a minute?"

Bridgette takes his hand, letting him lead her to his room. He's suddenly thankful that he cleaned up a bit, thankful he hasn't bought beer in two weeks.

Bridgette begins wiggling out of her costume, not needing to but evidently wanting to. Shane goes to her, hands stilling her motions. He reaches for the strings on her back, untying her corset and sliding it off. The costume falls to the ground, and she turns to him, naked and speckled in green and gold. She somehow looks more fae-like without the dress.

She helps him with his costume again, and then his underthings. Bridgette takes her time, something she isn't known for, her fingers smoothing over his thighs while leading his underwear down his legs. She kisses her way to his cock and takes it into her mouth, rolling the flaccid member around her tongue, stoking the fire in Shane's belly. He gently grips her hair, delighting in the oil-soft curls. He's always wanted to touch them, to feel them slide between his fingers; there's something that held him back before, some kind of wall between them. But the wall isn't there now.

When Bridgette finally pulls back from his cock, she pushes him onto the bed, mounting him and tenderly rocking her hips. She leans over him, breasts pressing into his chest, lips ghosting over his. Shane grips her sides, slowing her pace when she begins to lose track of herself, keeping her moored. He watches her eyes - they're open, not closed and lost in a different memory - and the way her lips twitch into a smile when his do.

"I tried to kill myself," he says suddenly, not knowing it was going to slip out and certainly not wanting it to. Bridgette comes to an immediate halt, eyes wide and dismayed. "Sorry," he rushes out. "Ignore that. Misfiring brain."

But she doesn't move. "Tell me."

He doesn't understand the softness in her voice or the gentle hand she presses to his cheek. He doesn't know why she keeps coming back to him, why she keeps accepting him in. "The car accident."

Bridgette nods as if she's known all along. "Tell me," she presses, slowly rocking her pelvis against his, urging him on.

"I was sick of the pain," he whispers, trying to keep himself in check, trying not to let the emotions of the night get to him. "You don't -- it just hurt all the fucking time. And then you were good to me, but I knew I'd let you down. I _know_ I'll let you down, I _know_ you'll get sick of coddling me every time I slip up. I'm not worth the hassle-"

Her lips find his, holding him to her, her body stilling above his. When she finally pulls back, she whispers, "You're worth it. I promise you. _You're worth it._ To me," she pauses and whispers, "and to your daughter."

The tears begin, and he can't stop them. Bridgette kisses his cheeks and then his lips, salty with his grief. He clings to her, gulping air perfumed with her scent.

Bridgette begins to move again, coaxing Shane into a muted orgasm, before rolling onto her side, pulling him into her. She holds him, ghosting kisses to his temple.

When Shane finally quiets, when he finally manages to get control of himself, he murmurs, "Can you...can you drive me to Zuzu?"

She doesn't press. Bridgette places a kiss to his lips and crawls out of bed, struggling into her dress and boots. Shane settles for a hoodie and jeans, shoving his hands into his pockets. "If you don't want-"

"Don't be stupid." She says it to him often, but always gently, always affectionately. How didn't he notice it before? How hadn't he noticed the way she's looked at him this past month, the determination in her gaze? He's like a stubborn horse she's trying to break, and she's finally making progress.

She follows him to Jas' room. Shane doesn't wake the girl, but he does place a kiss to her forehead. Bridgette waits patiently before leading him to the truck. They drive in silence for a while before she finally murmurs, "I'm proud of you."

"You don't even know where we're going." But she does.

"Don't be stupid," she repeats fondly, smiling when his hand finds hers on the stick shift.

 

* * *

 

The woman behind the desk takes Shane's paperwork, and the orderly waiting to take him to his room offers him a comforting smile. Shane is rooted to the spot - he doesn't want to move. He doesn't want to take his hand out of Bridgette's.

"We can go home if you're not ready," she soothes. She's struggling with letting him go, too. "You need to do this on your terms."

"I'm ready," he breathes. The words make him feel stronger, and so does Bridgette's squeeze.

Before he can depart, Bridgette places a soft kiss to his cheek, and then another to his lips. "Call me. Anytime," she murmurs, and he nods. He hesitates before removing his hoodie, handing it to her. Bridgette wraps her arms around it, letting out a soft, steadying breath.

Shane's feet are leaden as he follows the orderly. He turns to glance back before he rounds the corner and loses sight of her. She's still waiting, a green fairy in smudged makeup holding his hoodie as if it will disappear when she lets go.

Bridgette smiles, and he returns it, takes a breath, and steps into the rehabilitation wing of the hospital.

 

* * *

 

 


	7. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Seven, in which things fall into place.

* * *

**Shane**

* * *

 

Snow is falling the first day Bridgette and Jas come to visit. Shane isn't sure if Bridgette told her what rehab is, or why Shane is there. Jas probably pieced this together, though - kids are smart, and Jas is exceptionally bright.

Bridgette and Shane don't kiss when they meet, but Shane manages to casually touch her while Jas is distracted by a movie in the common room. Bridgette returns the chaste touches and even manages to press a kiss to his knuckles secretly.

"You're looking better," she murmurs in an undertone when Jas goes to the bathroom.

"I'm feeling better." It's mostly true, but there are still nights when his hands shake, and he wants nothing more than to ruin all of his progress. But then he remembers Jas. He remembers Bridgette. "Stronger."

Shane wonders if she wants to ask when he'll come back home, but she doesn't voice the question, and he doesn't answer. The truth is, he isn't sure when he can trust himself to leave.

"Juniper misses you," she says suddenly with a soft chuckle. "She's been snippy with me."

"How're Ember and Cinder?"

"Cinder's still a willful ass. Ember and I are preparing for the barrel racing competition in Miltonburg." Bridgette's face is bright and excited at that, her hand tightening in his. "I'm spending a fortune keeping the training space ice-free, but it's worth it. It's been too long since we've been out there."

"That's great," he says and genuinely means it. He takes their last few seconds of privacy to hook Bridgette into a kiss, a hand nestling between her neck and the hoodie keeping her warm. His hoodie. "I...I think I want to come home soon. Not too soon," he adds when she pulls back, looking worried. "Just...I think I need to trust myself." Hadn't she said something similar to him?

When they finally part in the lobby, Bridgette looks uncomfortable; her large, dark eyes bore holes into him. Even though Jas is right there, is watching, Bridgette closes the distance to Shane, lips crushing into his. Shane holds her to him, ignoring the fact that Jas is exclaiming quite loudly behind them.

They step apart, their fingers the last things to unravel. Bridgette takes Jas' hand in hers, and they leave, Jas bubbling with excitement at the new development. Shane watches them go, his heart stammering, wanting nothing more than to follow them home.

 

* * *

**Mid-Winter, Year 6**

* * *

 

The bus ride from Zuzu to Pelican Town is horrible; the damn thing gets stuck - _twice_  - on the poorly-plowed state route. Shane tries not to pick at his nail beds, but it's a losing battle. He's never liked the snow, especially not when he has to be in it.

The station is quiet when they arrive, and Shane is the only one to get off of the bus. He loiters in the warm interior for a while before letting out a breath, rubbing his hands together, and stepping into the tundra.

He walks to Marnie's because he's broke - he didn't think to bring his wallet to Zuzu with him, after all - and it gives him a chance to think through his greeting. Should he play it cool? Act like the past two months didn't happen? Pretend that he's free and clear, untempted by alcohol?

It's a lie; the people at the hospital told him that. There's no cure to addiction - there's only remission, only recovery, and then possibly failure. But he's willing to take the chance because the _2-months sober_ chip in his pocket is a lump of hot coal, a reminder burning into his flesh.

Shane comes up the lane, pausing outside of Marnie's house. He admires the winter decorations, the blinking lights and Jas' drawings of snowmen and poinsettias taped to the windows. And then he clears his throat, puts his hand on the doorknob, and walks through.

Marnie is in the kitchen making tea; Jas is at the table with homework. They both look up when he enters, and they both freeze, confused.

Jas is the first to break, letting out a little squeal and tossing herself at him, nearly knocking him over with the force of her hug. Shane ducks down and holds her to him, eyes closed, trying not to sob. "I missed you!" she exclaims; she sounds like she might cry, too.

"I missed you, too," he mumbles into her hair, refusing to let her go. "I'm sorry, Jas. I'm sorry for everything - but I'm going to make it right. I promise."

Marnie comes to wrap her arms around both of them, tears spilling freely. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming home?" Marnie demands, but she doesn't sound upset - she sounds thrilled. "Goodness, did you at least tell Bridgette?"

Shane offers her a soft, anxious smile when he pulls free from their arms. "Not yet. I wanted to see you guys first."

Marnie's expression softens and she rubs a thumb across his cheek. "Welcome home, Shane."

"Welcome home!" Jas repeats.

"Go get yourself comfortable in the living room," Marnie insists, back to her mother-henning. "I'll make you something to eat. Are you hungry? I have those poppers you love so much!"

"I-" he tries to decline, but Marnie is already pulling things from the freezer and upending them on a baking tray. He chuckles to himself and stands, glancing at Jas. "Anything good on TV?"

"We taped the gridball games for you!"

He's already seen them - rehab had television, of course - but the thoughtfulness sent a flash of adoration through him. "Want to watch with me?" he offers, to which Jas beams.

He's halfway into the game from last month, Jas chirping questions about the rules at his side, when the front door bursts open and Bridgette, dark ringlets dusted in snow, pushes through, coming to a halt in the entryway.

Shane gets to his feet without losing a beat, going to her. Bridgette's arms clamp around his neck immediately, pulling him the small inches down to meet her lips with his.

Jas joins them in a group hug, still bubbling with excitement, and Bridgette chuckles weakly against Shane's lips. "How are you feeling?" she asks, her dark eyes raised to his, holding his gaze.

"Glad to be home."

"And we're glad to have you home." Bridgette's mouth skims across his ear, and she whispers, "What are you doing tonight?"

"Any plans?" he asks, trying not to read too far into things. The barriers broke down between them on Spirit's Eve, but time has passed. Time is always the villain in Shane's world.

But not this time. Bridgette nuzzles her nose against his neck, whispering, "I think you know _precisely_ what plans I have in store."

Shane's arms tighten around her waist, and his head goes to her shoulder, chuckling into her coat. "Still using me, huh?"

"Don't be stupid," she laughs, pressing another kiss to his lips.

 

* * *

 


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter

* * *

**Late Spring, Year 17**

**Shane**

* * *

 

Bridgette always looks good, but Shane is having a hard time tearing his eyes away from her now. They're surrounded by others, jostling through the crowd, and yet there is only her.

When she finally breaks through all of the loud, excited people around them and into the sunshine outside, Shane grabs her hand. She leads him, as she is so good at doing, away from the massive building and toward a water feature in the blazing sun. When she finally turns to him, her makeup is slightly smudged and her smile is bright enough to jumpstart an entire year's worth of energy.

"Well, that was something," she chuckles, wiping at her cheeks and shaking her head. "So much time, and now we're here, and Jas..." she breaks off, voice choking, fresh tears glistening in her dark eyes. Shane pulls her into his arms and she nestles against him, breath warm and hiccuping against his collarbone. "Fuck," she hisses with a little laugh. "Yoba's soggy panties...I said I wouldn't cry."

"We both knew that wasn't going to happen," he chuckles against her relaxed hair, the strands smooth and coconut-scented against his face. "Wimp."

She snorts and pulls back, smacking his arm, and brushes down her pencil skirt as if getting rid of invisible dirt. _"You're_ a wimp. Don't pretend you weren't crying in there."

"Never. Crying is for wimps." But he catches her waist in an arm, pulling her side against his and peering toward the glass doors. The crowd is pushing through, filling the courtyard and making it hard to see. "Did Marnie text yet?"

"Yep. She and Maru grabbed a table." Bridgette leans into him, eyes also trained on the doors. "Did your graduation last this long, by the way? I feel like we were stuck in purgatory for six years."

"No idea, I never went," he admits.

Bridgette's eyes widen and her head whips around to stare at him; he can't see her gaze given his attention on the doors, but he knows her well enough to predict her actions and expressions with a ninety-percent accuracy. "How did I never know that?"

"How often do you talk about high school graduations?"

"...Fair point."

Shane sees Jas' dark hair and large eyes even from their distance and he squeezes Bridgette's side. "Here she comes."

Bridgette doesn't wait - she meets Jas halfway, throwing her arms around the girl. Jas looks endlessly embarrassed and endlessly pleased at the reaction, mumbling something that might be, _You're so embarrassing; it's just high school._

Shane watches his daughter and his wife as they embrace, while Bridgette wipes tears from her cheeks, and Jas affectionately bumps Bridgette's arm. And then he can't contain himself anymore, swooping in and drawing them both into his arms, kissing Jas' forehead. "I'm so proud of you."

"Not you, too," she groans, but she's grinning like mad when she looks up at him. "Did Aunt Marnie-"

"Yep, she ordered apps," Bridgette interrupts, kissing Jas' cheek.

"You're suffocating me," Jas grumbles. "And I'm starving - can we go?"

One of Shane's hands hook his wife's arm, pulling her from the blushing girl, and the other draws Jas along by the waist, leading the pair to the car. They both lean heavily on him, Jas changing the topic - probably hoping she can distract Bridgette from her tears - to their upcoming trip to Beaver Hollow.

"Ash is bringing home the wreath this weekend," she says with a proud tilt to her chin.

"Damn right," Shane alleges even though Cinder's daughter is still young and wild at heart, resisting at random intervals to keep Jas on her toes.

"Everything _is_ coming up Jazzy," Bridgette hums, only letting Shane go when they reach Jas' car. "App time?"

"And _pizza,"_ Jas moans in delight, pulling her keys out from under her robe where her tiny purse is hanging. "And ice cream?"

"Whatever you want, babe," Bridgette grins, getting into the backseat.

"Within reason," Shane interrupts, but he knows they'll give her anything she asks for.

When he's in the passenger seat and Jas is reversing out of the amphitheater's parking lot, Bridgette reaches out to tuck an errant piece of hair behind Jas' ear. "We're so proud of you."

"I know," she groans, but she's beaming.

"Your parents would be proud, too," Shane adds softly.

Jas' face mellows a bit, glancing at the picture of her parents that she taped to the dash - right next to the picture of her, Shane, and Bridgette. "I know."

Shane can't keep his lips from tilting upward, though, and he continues, "And we all love you."

"So much," is Bridgette's addition from the backseat.

"Oh gross," she reddens, shaking her head. "Don't make me crash the car."

"And we're gonna make a banner that says so," Bridgette adds. "We're gonna hold it up during your course run."

"No!"

"And we'll have an air horn," Shane can't help himself.

"It's a steeplechase! You'll spook Ash!"

"Ash is used to our shenanigans."

"And we didn't say we'd use the air horn during _your_ race," Shane supplements. "We'll get rid of the competition for you."

"Yoba's ass!" she laughs, having stolen one of Bridgette's favorite expletives. "You'll get us all banned for life."

"Worth it to see the look on that pompous Missy Cordaine when her dumb Irish Draught bucks her into the water," Bridgette mutters, mostly kidding.

Jas is laughing, perfect peels of laughter, and Shane is overcome with the force of his love. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he tells the girl in an undertone.

Jas spares a glance from the road, and Shane finally notices how wet her eyes are. "Love you too, Dad."

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading - I really hope you enjoyed this little fic!


End file.
